Obsessive Compulsive
by darkrisingphoenix
Summary: [AU] Life was better when it was exact anyway...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis in any way, shape, or form.**

I beg of you, please don't kill me for starting another story before finishing both Ice and Memories Lost. Inspiration likes to hit me at the most unannounced times.

Oh, and guess what disorder Tezuka has.

Note: Fuji, in the anime, seems to say: "Maa..." or "Ne," a lot (at least to me, it seems that way. Anyone else?). I'm going to be replacing those with "Well..." or "Hey,"

---

It was a cold autumn morning, just like every other to the bespectacled man standing on the subway. Every morning, like clockwork, Tezuka would wake up at precisely 6:19 and shower for four minutes and seventeen seconds before toweling off for one minute and fifty-two seconds and taking the short eleven second walk to his dresser. From there, he would pick out his clothes for the day in one minute and six seconds before dressing in two minutes and thirty-six seconds.

He would walk downstairs in eleven seconds, make coffee and toast in two minutes and four seconds, and eat in five minutes and forty-two seconds _exactly_. It took him another minute and sixteen seconds to pack his suitcase and exactly one second less to put on his shoes, walk out the door, and lock the door. A four minute and seven second walk to the subway before waiting for approximately three minutes and five seconds before it arrived. It was then a ten minute and thirty-two second ride before his stop and another four minute and forty-three second walk to his office.

He would walk up seven flights of stairs in five minutes and thirty-seven seconds before taking the fifty-six second walk to his office in there. His secretary would have another thermos of coffee exactly three-quarters full waiting for him, and he would take it into his office, sipping it only once at three minute intervals throughout the morning.

Then he would take exactly fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds to eat his lunch and then another two minutes and seven seconds to refill his thermos of coffee. Then he would work until 5:03 and take the fifteen minute and thirty-nine second subway ride back home. From there, he would work a bit more at his kitchen table for thirty minutes and twenty-seven seconds before cooking dinner. He would take seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds to eat and then, he would turn on the TV and watch a tennis match until 8:42.

After that, he would soak in the tub for sixteen minutes and four seconds, making sure to only fill the tub with water that was 103 degrees Fahrenheit, and filled with two and a half tablespoons of vanilla spice bath salts. He would then towel off for one minute and seventeen seconds before dressing in boxers and his black bathrobe and reading the newspaper for fourteen minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He would then take the forty-seven second walk back upstairs and pull on a T-shirt in twelve seconds. Crawling into bed took seven seconds, and he would fall asleep in fourteen minutes and three seconds.

Life was better when it was exact anyway.

The day went on as usual, and that day, he received a call from his girlfriend.

"Hi, sweetie," She crooned over the phone. "Want to go to the street fair with me tomorrow?"

Tezuka briefly ran over his schedule for Saturdays. There was, as always, a space that said: _'Date with Keiko or tennis at street courts.'_ "Sure."

"I know, I know, 9:30 to 2:00 like always. Well then, bye Kunimitsu! I love you." Tezuka heard the dial tone and briefly imagined his girlfriend grinning from ear to ear and rushing off to tell her book club or something.

In truth, Tezuka found Mikuri Keiko a bit annoying and clingy; and had often thought about breaking up with her during his baths. He had weighed the pros and cons of it, and had come up with more pros to stay with her. He figured he stayed with her for as long as he had before having doubts because she played tennis and didn't seem to mind his condition. Tezuka sighed before leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of coffee.

---Saturday Morning: 9:30---

Tezuka met Keiko at the entrance of the street fair that morning. She had bought tickets and latched onto his arm as soon as he arrived, making several girls glare. She smirked at them before beaming at Tezuka and leading him into the crowd of people. As they weaved through the horde of people, Keiko led him over to different carnival game booths. He won a small stuffed bear holding a tennis racket for her from a dart game. She hugged it protectively before slipping it into her canvas bag and pulled him towards the art displays.

There were many artists, from amateurs hoping to earn some extra pocket money by selling caricatures to real artists who were painting right there on the street. Keiko went towards one of the caricaturists—a handsome one, Tezuka mentally noted—to get a portrait of herself done. She called that she would be done in a little bit, and for him to look at the art.

Tezuka mentally rolled his eyes and began walking along the street. He glanced at watercolors and stopped once to gaze at an oil painting of a garden. He frowned; something was amiss. The garden seemed too serene, too quiet. In fact, when Tezuka glanced at most of the art, everything was like the garden: perfectly beautiful. He shook his head and continued his stroll through the street. He nearly passed by one display, but something on it caught his attention. He turned to look at it and met a familiar looking pair of deep blue eyes.

"Tezuka? Is that you?" The voice was soft and soothing, but at the same time deep, rich, and velvety with a large dose of femininity. "Well, I guess it is," The eyes were now closed, and the voice receded back into the thin mouth set in a smile.

Tezuka recognized the voice at once. "Fuji?" He paused to straighten out his expression and take a closer look at the man that was now standing. "It's been a while."

The honey-brunet's smile grew even wider and the voice was heard again. "Still the same, Tezuka? Funny, seven years without seeing you in person has passed, and you still look the same." Fuji closed his mouth and Tezuka suddenly felt a longing to hear that voice again. It had truly been far too long since the two had met. "And act as usual." Fuji returned to his abandoned stool and picked up a paintbrush. "What makes the almighty tennis star and business man come visit this humble street fair?"

"I-" He was cut off by a shrill voice.

"Kunimitsu! I'm finished with my caricature!" Keiko ran up to the two, holding up her portrait with pride. "What do you think?"

Tezuka scanned the picture with distaste. The artist had made Keiko look perfect, with hair that didn't have any fly-away strands and a perfectly flat stomach.

"Was that done by Kimika Sora over there?" Fuji spoke in Tezuka's place, making Keiko jump.

"Why yes, it was. Isn't it beautiful?" Keiko had turned towards Fuji in vain and ran a hand through her long brown hair. "Don't you just love it? I bet you could tell by the masterful artwork and perfection."

"Well..." Fuji smiled almost devilishly. "I could tell by his lack of masterful artwork and perfection, if that's what you mean. I could do a more realistic one right now, in oil paint."

Keiko tossed her hair over her shoulder arrogantly. "You're asking me to model for you? I see that no one can resist my beauty and charm," She strutted over to another stool and smiled widely, showing all of her perfect teeth. "Go ahead."

Fuji picked up a smaller canvas and pulled out a charcoal pencil. Instead of starting to draw, he seemed to stare at Keiko through closed eyes. Tezuka took a glance at his watch. Keiko was going to be impatient in a few seconds.

"Well? Aren't you going to start?" She snapped at Fuji. Fuji smiled, unaffected by Keiko's shrillness.

"I was just about to." Fuji moved his pencil over the canvas in careful sketching movements. Tezuka timed him. It took Fuji two minutes and thirteen seconds to lay out the picture before he picked up his paints. Fuji painted for twenty minutes and thirty-seven seconds before picking up a fan and moving it over the painting. Tezuka thought he saw a smirk on Fuji's face when the artist turned the easel around. "So what do you think?"

The look on Keiko's face was priceless when she examined the painting.

---

Math Lovers: Next chapter is dedicated to whomever figures out when Tezuka gets to work during the day. And yes, I want it to the second. Have fun!

Oh, who am I kidding? I really doubt anyone's going to do that.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis in any way, shape, or form.**

Chapter two!

This chapter is dedicated to: runningondreams and karirin for getting the time right.

Note: Yuuta makes an appearance in this chapter. Therefore, there will be two Fujis, but the Fuji brother I refer to as Fuji is Fuji Syuusuke, and Yuuta's just Yuuta.

---

"Well?" Fuji chuckled, not taking his eyes off of Keiko's face. "Do you like it?"

"I'm far prettier than that!" Keiko protested, pointing at Fuji. "My hair's sleeker and shinier, my stomach is much flatter, my eyes are far more lustrous and bigger, and they're a deeper shade of brown!" She used her hands to gesture to parts of her body as she spoke. "My chest is bigger, and I don't have such low cheekbones! What did you do to me? You're a horrible artist!"

Fuji flashed Keiko a brilliant smile. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror? I paint only what I see; not disfigured, warped fantasy." He rinsed his brush and continued his painting of a lake. "But, Tezuka, it was nice seeing you again in person."

Keiko glared at Fuji. "You know _my_ Kunimitsu?"

Fuji chuckled and continued painting. "It's been a while though, hasn't it?" Tezuka nodded, knowing Fuji would somehow sense his nod. "I think Oishi's going to worry to death if you don't give him a call and tell him how you're doing. From Eiji's recount of the story, he thinks you've forgotten all about your days on the tennis team with us."

"I'll talk to him soon," Tezuka answered, shaking off Keiko's hand and turning towards the street.

Fuji's head turned towards the entrance to the art corner. "It sounds like Yuuta's coming." And sure enough, his younger brother was tearing down the street in panic towards Fuji's display.

"Bro!" He arrived breathlessly and took a deep breath. "I was with Mizuki-san just now, and saw men in black suits asking around if they had seen you. They even had a picture!" Yuuta inhaled once more and placed a hand on his chest. "I don't think anyone told them, but it looked like they were headed here next."

Fuji stood up in alarm, eyes wide open. "Is that so?" He dropped his brush and began screwing the lids onto his jars of paint. "Yuuta, help me pack up. Did Mizuki bring his van?"

Yuuta nodded, rushing to help his older brother. "I made him, just in case."

Fuji dropped his canvases into a crate and swore when he fumbled with his brushes. "How did they find me? I left no trail!" Carelessly tossing the assorted brushes into a pencil box, he snapped the lid shut and placed it into the crate as well. "How did they _know_ I'd be here?" He snarled, slamming the lid onto the container of sponges before dropping it into the crate viciously.

"Mizuki-san's waiting for us at the end of the street with his van." Yuuta lifted the easel up and hung it over his shoulder before picking up one of the two crates.

Fuji nodded and looked at Tezuka. Hoisting the remaining crate up, he smiled. "Sorry to make our meeting so short, but these things you just can't escape from. I'll get your number from Inui later. We can talk then." There were sudden yells from the end of the street where Yuuta was yelling for his brother to hurry. "Bye, Tezuka, Tezuka's-friend." Running towards the van, Tezuka watched as Fuji jumped into the back of the van with his crate and waved a quick goodbye to Tezuka as the trunk door slammed shut.

Keiko blinked. "Kunimitsu... What just happened?" Tezuka shook his head as three large men in suits and sunglasses marched into the art corner.

"Keiko... Don't say anything about him. Don't tell them about him, his brother, or Mizuki. Don't even tell them that I know him," Tezuka told her firmly as the men made their way down the street.

"Hey, have you two seen this man?" One held up a picture of Fuji and pointed at him. "He's a highly important person that we need to find."

"No, we haven't," Tezuka shook his head. "Try in the cuisine street."

"We should!" The men nodded to each other and turned around. "Thanks, young man."

Tezuka let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding when they finally turned the corner and were out of sight.

"Is that man a criminal?" Keiko adamantly asked, putting her hands on her waist. Her voice was much higher and shriller with annoyance. "If he is, I'm telling them. After all, criminals should be put in jai-"

"Keiko." Tezuka cut her off. "Do not tell them anything, do I make myself clear?"

"But, Kunimitsu..." She whined, tugging on his sleeve. He shrugged her off, irritated with her persistence.

"I'm going home. I suggest you say nothing to them if you see them again." Tezuka turned on his heel and walked towards the exit. '_Fuji... Just what did you get yourself into?'_

---

The phone rang, a sound that broke the silence of his nightly bath. He reached for his cell phone, kept nearby for emergencies. The caller ID was from an unfamiliar number, but Tezuka flipped it open and placed it to his ear. "Hello?"

The voice was slightly tinny from the phone, but it was still as rich and silky as ever. "Tezuka."

"Fuji," The two words exchanged seemed to carry on their silent conversation. For a moment, neither spoke.

Fuji was the first to break the silence. "I can tell that you're wondering what happened earlier." He chuckled, a low and throaty sound to Tezuka's ears. "Well... I'll tell you if you answer my questions." He waited for no answer and continued. "First, who were you with?"

"Girlfriend."

"I see. Second, do you love her?"

"No."

Fuji chuckled again. Tezuka shifted and looked at the clock. His bath was nearly over. There were only five minutes and sixteen seconds left of relaxation and soaking in vanilla spice scented bath water.

"Then why are you with her?"

"Because it'd be a major change in my life." There was that chuckle again; Tezuka was feeling slightly annoyed. "Get on with it, Fuji."

"Fine. Fourth... Are you taking a bath?" Fuji laughed this time, when Tezuka hung up the phone and cut off his voice before it reached the last syllable of his question. "Oh Tezuka, will you ever change?" He looked down at the phone in his hands. The screen read: _"Call Ended"_, and Fuji laughed again.

Tezuka looked at the phone in annoyance. What kind of question was: _"Are you taking a bath?_"? He then groaned when he realized what Fuji had done.

---

Don't kill me, please?

Yeah, it's really, really short...

Anyway, next chapter is dedicated to whoever can tell me what Fuji did that made Tezuka annoyed in the very last line!

Please review!


End file.
